


Shyness Boy 杏里

by slex (slexenskee)



Series: Overworld #3 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Pokemon fusion, Slightly - Freeform, yebisu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slexenskee/pseuds/slex
Summary: Voldemort loses his arch nemesis, Copernicus.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Overworld #3 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574209
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	Shyness Boy 杏里

**Author's Note:**

> Haha someone asked about Cassi's slowpoke, and it spiraled from there.

//

They all have them, and for the longest time Lord Voldemort doesn’t understand the emphasis on such negligible inanimate objects. 

But Harry had been insistent, and the practice was so universal and accepted Voldemort saw no reason to protest. He hadn’t actually given it much thought, honestly. All children have little stuffed animals, dolls, or various toys. It only made sense that his children would have them as well. They were innocuous enough, sitting in the corners of their rooms, propped on pillows on their beds, occasionally strewn across the floor where the Dark Lord would inevitably accidentally step on them. 

Harry was quite fond of security blankets and comfort animals. Voldemort never quite knew why, up until Saiph was born. After that he wished he hadn’t asked. If he hadn’t known the answer he could easily toss the rags out like the useless trash they were. As it is, he has no interest in living with that level of guilt, so he merely ignores them or suffers their presence in silence.

Harry had been brought to the Dursley’s with nothing but the blanket wrapped around him to ward off the autumn night chill. It had been a scrap of Gryffindor red cloth, with gold snitches patterned across it. Harry remembers it very clearly; for a very long time, it had been the only physical memento he had of his parents. He clung to it his entire childhood, until eventually his Aunt had found it carefully hidden underneath his bed and thrown it out. Harry had cried desperately and begged her not to put it in the trash, but his Aunt was having none of it; she insisted it was a rag, and drove it off to the dump with the rest of their spring cleaning trash. Harry had been so young then, but the event had clearly made a deep impression on him, for the longing and bitterness had still been apparent in his voice decades after it had occurred. 

At any rate, this was why he had painstakingly perused basically every baby store on the planet and beyond, searching for  _ just  _ the right blanket and stuffed toy for the twins, and afterwards, for Saiph and Cassiopeia. 

Asterope had a fluffy lavender blanket, and a fluffy lavender stuffed cat to match. Cepheus had the same matching set, in a dark gray. The blankets are still on their beds at home, and the stuffed cats have travelled to Hogwarts with them. 

Cassiopeia has a pink baby blanket and some kind of stuffed creature Voldemort could never hope to guess, but had the dumbest expression he’d ever seen in his life. 

And Saiph… well. Saiph had his little light purple blanket, and Copernicus, his stuffed... bunny. Or at least, he’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be a bunny. 

The twins had certainly been fond of their cats, but not to the degree Saiph was with his bunny. Maybe it was simply because they were older and Voldemort had never had to deal with them in the same manner he had to deal with Saiph, but Voldemort knew that damnable bunny to an excruciatingly personal degree. He knew better than to travel anywhere with Saiph without either of those things in tow, lest he want to make his life miserable. 

But as he had stated before, he had never given them all that much thought. 

So it was no surprise that, one day, he wakes up and realizes Copernicus was nowhere in sight. 

Fortunately the morning is bright and early, and Saiph is too sleepy to notice it. He gives an unhappy whine when Voldemort opens the curtains, as he burrows closer towards Harry, who also looks thoroughly unhappy at the sudden onslaught of light. Harry opens his arms without opening his eyes, and the three year-old worms his way between them and hides his face in Harry’s neck. Voldemort is annoyed, in the same way he has been annoyed for the last few months, because getting time alone with Harry is impossible when there are now two barnacles to deal with. 

As if on cue, a baby’s cry filters in from the connected room. He gives the two on the bed an irritated glance, before leaving the room to attend to her. Maybe the blasted bunny is in the nursery.

No such luck.

He scours the floor as he feeds the little menace her bottle, overturning pillows and other stuffed toys, opening chests and drawers, peering behind the curtains, bench cushions, and armoire. He even tries to  _ accio  _ it, to no avail. 

He curses under his breath. Cassi watches him with what he thinks is a far too smug expression. His youngest daughter takes after him, unfortunately. 

“Where bun-bun?” A little voice asks, from the other room.

Damn it. He’s run out of time. 

There’s the shifting of cloth from behind the doorway, and then Harry’s sleepy, patient voice; “Hmm? What do you mean?”

“No bun-bun.” Saiph says; he doesn’t sound frantic.  _ Yet. _

Harry yawns. “Oh no, I see. Why don’t we look for him together, then?”

Saiph makes a noise of affirmation. 

Harry laughs. “Let’s take a bath first, though, okay?”

“Okay.” Saiph sounds reluctant, but goes nonetheless. 

Voldemort is absolutely  _ outraged.  _ What does he mean, ‘okay’? Where is the crying? The screaming? The tears and the shrieking? The mad struggling as if Voldemort is about to dump him into hot lava? That’s it?  _ Okay?! _

He is in such a state of outraged disbelief that he completely forgets about the missing Copernicus. He can hear Harry and Saiph in the bathroom, making use of the generously sized tub to play with Saiph’s endless assortment of bath toys. He begrudgingly accepts that there is, indeed, a reason Saiph is so amiable to the task; Pavlovian response. If this is how Harry always bathes him— toys, theatrics, and a small ocean of bubbles— then Harry has successfully convinced Saiph that it’s not bath time but playtime, and manages to get him in and out without much fanfare. Voldemort watches the whole ordeal with equal parts envy and awe. Harry makes it all look so  _ easy.  _

Harry denies it out of some misplaced sense of modesty, but he is impressively adept at parenting. It’s second nature to him, really; Harry has always been a generous and caring individual, both of which are traits that carry excellently into parenthood. Combined with his emphatic ability to sympathize with the juvenile plights of young children, he’s basically perfect. It’s irritating beyond belief. 

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, he tells himself. 

Harry is back, and has proven himself to be the more capable and superior parent on all fronts, so there’s no reason Voldemort needs to be involved any longer. He can rest assured knowing Saiph— and by extension the rest of his siblings— are in good hands. 

This is what he’s wanted for  _ months.  _

So why is he so… unhappy?

“Look Sai, it’s daddy!” Harry exclaims cheerfully, as he hauls the three year-old out of the bath. Without  _ any tears whatsoever.  _ Voldemort is silently furious. 

And then Saiph’s curious look turns into a beaming smile. “Daddy,” he agrees, drawing out the word with a silly grin. 

It’s very difficult to stay angry when Saiph is in such an impossibly good mood. There hasn’t been tears in  _ weeks.  _ Harry is some kind of miracle worker. 

Saiph is deposited into his arms before Voldemort can protest otherwise. “Daddy,” he exclaims again, as he squirms around in the Dark Lord’s grip. He is currently very slippery and decidedly more wiggly than usual, so Voldemort has a brief struggle in which he attempts to keep the barnacle from falling to the floor, or dripping all over his clothes.

“Harry,” he admonishes, annoyed.

Harry just grins at him. “Can you just hold him a bit while I change?” He gestures to his bathrobe. “I won’t take long.”

“I’m already late.” He points out with irritation, but Harry just waves off his concerns, disappearing into the dressing room.

Well, it appears as if he’s not going to be leaving any time soon. He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing Saiph beside him to rub him dry. Saiph, surprisingly, sits obediently as he towels his hair dry. Usually at this point he’s attempting to wiggle away from Voldemort— the only time he actively tries to get away from him, as opposed to latching on to him. But with Harry back, Saiph is not nearly as clingy as usual, so he probably doesn’t feel the need to be permanently attached to Voldemort’s person. 

His relief is short lived.

Saiph blinks up at him from beneath the towel. “Where bun-bun?”

Voldemort freezes. He’d forgotten about the missing bunny. 

“Why don’t you ask your mother that question?” He evades, because he is a coward when it comes to this child. 

Saiph considers this, before exacting his swift judgment. “Want daddy,” he refutes, stubborn. As if on cue, his little hands grab against the material of Voldemort’s shirt.

Oh no. 

“Sai,” he begins, with no small amount of trepidation. On the one hand, it’s really sort of sweet that Sai is still so enamored with him even with Harry back. But on the other hand he  _ does not want to deal with this.  _

To his endless relief Harry exits the dressing room before he has to figure out a way to finish his sentence, beaming at both of them like he’s seen something miraculous. Voldemort isn’t entirely sure what that look is for. It makes him feel warm nonetheless. 

Harry is wearing the curious ensemble he always does when he’s about to go off world for something important; casual muggle clothes with his mystical cloak and very ornate and intricate finery thrown on top of it. He fastens the shimmering material of his cloak against his shoulder, effectively shielding his clothing from view. He always looks so ethereal and otherworldly in full regalia, his astrological appearance making him appear wholly inhuman. It’s difficult to recognize him, sometimes, to associate him with the cheerful and loving Harry he knows. 

Saiph doesn’t appear to have this issue. Nothing about Harry’s immense powers or intergalactic esteem frightens him at all. 

“Mama,” he cries happily, pushing the towel off his head so he can see him clearly.

Harry grins down at him, and makes himself comfortable in Voldemort’s lap. “Hi baby. Are you and Daddy going to have fun today?”

_ “What?”  _ Voldemort says, nonplussed.

Harry just smiles sheepishly at him. “I need to go off world today, so I was hoping you could take him with you.”

Voldemort narrows his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You took him to work with you for months earlier!”

“Not voluntarily.” Voldemort points out. “I have more important things to do than attend to the whims of a cranky toddler.”

Harry gives him a flat look. “And you think I  _ don’t _ ?”

Harry was the one who has been away from work for the last few months, after all. And he doesn’t exactly have the sort of occupation where that sort of absence comes without complications. It’s understandable, of course, that he would take time off to give birth, and then to care for his newborn, but that didn’t mean the universe and all its problems ceased to exist in the interim. He wasn’t even really supposed to be back yet, but an unavoidable issue had come up, that only the Master of Death and subsequently the exacting judgement of the universe could solve. 

That being said, Voldemort also has the sort of job that doesn’t leave much time for child rearing. Sure, he might actually be on the planet they live on, but that didn’t make him any less busy. And that was to say nothing of his… parental difficulties. 

Harry knows he tries. And he loves him for trying, truly, but just because he tries doesn’t mean he’ll ever be good at it. Not that Harry would ever say that aloud. He knows how self-conscious the Dark Lord is about his skills as a parent. And he knows how difficult the man finds it, and, more than that, he knows how hard the man tries anyway. It’s heartbreaking sometimes, because he knows why Tom is like this. All his life he’s never known love, has never  _ chosen  _ love because he had never felt its touch. He was conceived under a love potion, and beyond that, grew up in an unforgiving orphanage. Even since before he was born he had no ideaKindness and tenderness are foreign things that don’t come easily to him. 

It took years of Harry’s own kindness for the man to finally understand it, and even longer still for him to learn how to emulate it. Even now Harry doesn’t really know if Voldemort  _ loves,  _ but he is… kind. He cares for Harry, and their children. He likes to see them all happy and content, and finds himself restless and uneasy when they are not. He worries, endlessly, over all of them. He’s making progress, little by little. 

Harry could not put into words the joy he had felt seeing Saiph and Tom when he had woken up. 

Saiph has always been wary of his father, ever since he grew out of his newborn phase and started to be more attuned to the world around him. He’s always been a very emotionally (and magically) sensitive child who gets scared and upset easily, and Voldemort has always been a very volatile man prone to anger and violence. It was unsurprising that complications arose. Voldemort’s anger would cause Saiph to become upset, and then his tears and sadness would cause Voldemort to become insecure, and by extension even more angry— and so the vicious cycle would continue. Harry had tried to intervene by tactfully trying to point that out, but it had only made Voldemort even more self-conscious and standoffish with the boy, to the point he would actively avoid Saiph’s presence. He seemed to have been under the impression he caused the boy nothing but pain, and no matter how many times Harry tried to explain that Saiph loved him unconditionally, the man’s own pride and insecurities caused him to push them both away. 

Harry had worried over leaving Saiph in Voldemort’s care while he was in a coma, but he knew Saiph would be safe and, if he was being honest, had assumed Voldemort would pass the boy and his older siblings along to Molly. He’d been right, sort of. At least on the account of the twins. But when he’d awoken and spent the day with his family enjoying their newest addition, he’d been thrilled to see that Saiph and his father had repaired their relationship. The baby was happy and smiley as he normally was, and gazed up at his father with endless adoration. He even stayed in Voldemort’s arms the whole day long, and refused to part from him. 

And now, even with the addition of Harry and Cassi, their relationship still flourished. Harry was definitely going to do his best to make sure it continues to do so.

“It’ll only be for the morning,” Harry assures, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll come back after lunch.”

“I have a meeting with the Empress of Tang at two.”

“ _ Right  _ after lunch.” Harry promises. “I swear.”

Voldemort looks dubious despite his reassurances. Harry has never been known for his punctuality. 

“And anyway, he wants to spend time with you.” Harry adds, with a happy smile. “Isn’t that right, Sai?”

Saiph giggles as he looks up at them. 

Harry grabs him, little frog towel and all, and swings him up to blow kisses on his stomach. Sai shrieks in delight, flailing his arms. “You do, right?” Harry says insensibly, as he rubs his nose against Sai’s baby soft skin. “Yes, you do!”

“Enough.” Tom scowls, even though he does nothing to stop them. “I need to speak with Lucius. In the meantime, get him dressed.”

“Fine, fine.” Harry agrees easily, knowing he’s won. 

He gets Saiph changed without too much difficulty, playing a little game and singing a song about choo-choo trains going into tunnels to get Saiph to put his legs through the pant holes one by one. He sings another little song about buttons to get Saiph to sit still as he does up his shirt, figuring that if Saiph is going to work with the Dark Lord then he probably needs to look a bit presentable. There’s another little game to get Saiph’s hair combed, and another song for tying his shoelaces. By the time Harry is done he’s combed Saiph’s hair neatly to the side and dressed him in corduroy pants and an adorable baby button down shirt, and even the cutest little cardigan. All in all, Saiph looks like a little mini professional, and it is so damn cute Harry has to take a photo. Or multiple. 

This is how Voldemort finds them twenty minutes later, Harry on his belly on the floor in his Master of Death outfit, taking photos of their absurdly well dressed toddler holding his baby sister. 

Voldemort takes one look at the toddler’s presentable outfit, perfectly coiffed hair, and tied shoelaces and almost wants to light something on fire. If he was a lesser man, he would have fallen to his knees in despair. As it is, he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw so hard he thinks it might break. 

“Pants,” he says, flatly, once Harry looks up from his mini photoshoot. “How in Merlin’s name…” He trails off, disgruntled. 

It’s not even worth asking. Harry is god. And apparently that means he can get their toddler to put on pants. 

Harry even found the time to have the elves pack all of Sai’s favorite foods for lunch in his favorite lunchbox, as well as some morning snacks incase he gets hungry. Actually, he found time for more than that too.

“If he insists he’s not hungry but is still acting a bit cranky, give him something anyway; try the apple slices. If he still says no, even with the caramel, try a milk box. If that doesn’t work then he’s probably still a bit sleepy and might just want to lie down. A quiet place to nap should do the trick.” 

Harry hands him the lunchbox and the snacks as he speaks, as well as a large bag to carry them in. 

“If he seems listless or bored and is driving you up the wall, I’ve packed his coloring book and crayons. I also packed his favorite picture book, and if turns out he really is just cranky and needs a nap, reading it to him is a surefire way to get him out like a light. If he’s  _ really  _ driving you up the wall, I’ve put his tablet in there too. Don’t worry about figuring it out he’ll know what to do— but only give it to him if it’s really that bad, okay? He’s not supposed to be on it for long.” Harry prattles on as he adjusts all the things in the bag. 

The Dark Lord stares at the boy blankly, in what he refuses to call awe. How did Harry manage all this in less than half an hour? He feels as if he should be taking notes right now. 

He looks down at the bag in his arms, peering at the contents. Harry even packed an extra set of clothes, diapers (Saiph is more or less potty trained, but he is still a toddler and accidents are inevitable) and his baby blanket. There are a few more toys in there as well, including little cars and trains neatly sealed in containers. 

“Does he really need all this for a few hours?” He asks, blankly.

“A few hours is basically a century when it comes to three year-olds.” Harry returns, which is the most impressively spot on piece of wisdom Voldemort’s ever heard in his life. 

It’s unbelievable, actually, how terrible Voldemort is at this. 

In hindsight, he was fumbling around in the dark this whole time when it came to taking care of Sai, doing everything the hard way and making it more difficult than necessary for both of them. 

Taking care of Saiph had been like a baptism by fire— a fairly traumatizing experience for both of them, he’s sure. 

He’s still staring pensively down into the bag when he finally realizes Harry is calling his name.

“ - Tom?” 

Voldemort looks up, startled. 

Saiph is in Harry’s arms, ready to be transferred, and Cassi is back in her crib. 

He takes the toddler wordlessly, still feeling a bit maudlin and out of sorts. 

“Don’t worry about Cassi, I’ll feed her again before I go. The house elves will be watching her, and Fleur is coming at ten to check up on her.” Harry says breezily, as he straightens his robes. 

Voldemort stares at him intensely, unbeknownst to the boy.

“Can I… call you?”

Harry almost misses the quiet question, his mind already half a world away as he lists out all the things he needs to do when he reaches Xandar. He pauses abruptly, as the words sink in.

His head snaps up. “Huh?” When he looks at him, the Dark Lord is not meeting his gaze. His expression is impossible to read, but that is telling in and of itself. The more impassive the Dark Lord appears, the more intense his emotional turmoil is.

“If I need assistance,” he adds, slowly, looking as if the words had to be physically wrenched out of him. 

“Oh,” Harry blinks rapidly. “Yes, of course! Don’t hesitate. I won’t be going anywhere where I won’t be reachable.”

The Dark Lord nods minutely. 

Harry wonders why the man would even want to call him, but doesn’t dare to prod any further. 

It might seem out of character, but hearing Harry’s immediate agreement settles some of Voldemort’s nerves. It’s a weight off his shoulders, knowing that if he finds himself at wits end with the toddler he can at least pick up the phone and call Harry for advice. More than likely, Harry will know  _ exactly  _ how to handle the situation. He’s far too prideful to ask anyone else, but he can admit openly that Harry is superior to him in this. 

_ Far  _ superior. So superior, in fact, it is humbling. 

He looks down at Sai, who is not teary eyed or even the least bit miserable, despite the fact he’s been made to bathe in the morning, and has also finished at least a small part of his breakfast. Both of those, if Voldemort had been trying to do this alone, would have been herculean tasks that would have resulted in utter misery for Voldemort and Saiph both. Instead he appears to be in a fairly good mood.

They part ways after that, and everything goes just about as Harry had predicted. 

Saiph begins to get a bit cranky about an hour and half after he’s made it into the office, refuses the myriad snacks Harry has packed for him, including the apple and caramel slices, and is pouting mutinously in the corner. So Voldemort gives him a juice box, which solves the problem wonderfully. He entertains himself for the better part of an hour with his crayons and coloring book, after which he disturbs Voldemort’s work again, this time looking ready for a tantrum. This time he lays out Saiph’s little blanket in the adjacent room to his office, and surrounds it with pillows and stuffed toys that he’d found in the bottomless bag as well. Harry clearly had thought of everything. He spares a brief moment to panic over the whereabouts of Copernicus— not in the bag— before he finds the picture book Harry had packed and gets distracted reading Saiph his absolutely inane and nonsensical children’s book. 

Saiph is out like a light. Voldemort is left quietly humbled by the Master of Death’s parenting prowess. Even when he’s not here he’s managed to excel at it. 

It’s the best day Voldemort and Saiph have ever had. It’s nearing noon and there hasn’t even been a hint of tears. The Dark Lord is floored. It’s like Saiph has been replaced by a pod person or something— the boy is  _ never  _ this well behaved. At least, not for Voldemort. 

This only serves to remind him how inadequate a parent he really is. Harry is so keenly aware of their needs and wants, and so attuned to them that he doesn’t seem to have any problems whatsoever. The children utterly adore him, and rightfully so. 

Voldemort supposes he’ll just have to accept this. Harry is superior in many things, but parenting especially so. 

At any rate, Saiph is behaving, and Voldemort doesn’t waste the opportunity to get as much work done as possible.

At first, he thinks he imagines it. 

There is movement from the corner of his eye; a quick blur that he catches just as he initials yet another budget report. When he looks up though, nothing is out of place. All the same, his instincts have never led him astray thus far, so he casts a quick disillusionment charm. Nothing comes up. His intrusion hex also turns up nothing, so with a scowl and a narrow-eyed sweep of the room, he returns to his work. 

He is on his guard, though. Lord Voldemort is not the sort of man who can be fooled. Many have tried: none have survived. 

Saiph stirs an hour later, and with yet another distrustful look around the room he walks up to retrieve the now unhappy toddler. Saiph never likes waking up from a nap, and to Voldemort’s dismay the blasted bunny is not here to deter his tears. He sniffles a little and whines loudly when Voldemort tries to rouse him properly. He debates his wisest course of action; he doesn’t have the damned bunny, but perhaps a snack might distract him enough to do the job? Saiph is usually drowsy and slow for the first few minutes after his nap and anything that requires any kind of mental concentration is out; the books and crayons will be of no help here. Most of his toys would require him to be in the mood to play to be effective. 

Voldemort contemplates just contacting Harry and asking. But the thought feels too much like admitting defeat for his taste. 

Before he can truly get into a dilemma, the whisper of paws on the open window sill catches his attention. 

Crookshanks has returned from his jaunt into the haunted forest behind their house, looking wholly unruffled and quite plump, as if hunting and taking on dangerous dark creatures was all part of his day job. Well, that  _ was  _ his day job, incidentally, but beyond that he had another job he was quite effective at. 

“Cat. Come.” Voldemort commands, and Crookshanks looks up from where he’s cleaning his paws to fix him with a deadpan look.

He snaps his fingers.  _ “Now.” _

The cat flicks its tail, but leaps down from the sill all the same. He comes to sit on his haunches beside Saiph, who makes another sleepy noise. The baby stirs as Crookshanks swishes his tail back and forth over his face. Saiph scrunches up his nose as he’s tickled by soft fur. 

“Saiph, it’s time to wake up now.” He tells the boy.

Saiph yawns widely, and is about to protest until he recognizes the cat beside him.

The crisis is averted as Saiph sits quietly and pets Crookshanks without incident. The cat even has the added bonus of keeping the boy preoccupied for an extended period of time by mere existence in his proximity, so Saiph is perfectly entertained watching Crookshanks trot around the room, sniffing the ground and random articles of furniture.

Voldemort has one eye on them, but most of his attention is diverted to his work, where issues with land allotments are giving him the beginnings of a terrible headache. 

The giants very obviously need a lot of land, and for the most part they’re perfectly happy to keep to mountains and steep valleys. This normally works out quite well, as industrial farming has no real use for those terrains and they offer a lot of space for the solitary creatures. But the goblins have expressed interest in reclaiming old mining territories that coincide with current giant territory. 

It’s just as he’s toying with the idea of giving the goblins the ‘land’  _ inside  _ of the mountains that the hairs on the back of his neck raise. 

At the same time, Crookshanks lets out a low, warning growl.

The noise startles Saiph, who makes his own noise of distress. 

The cat’s sharp senses, combined with his own, is enough for him to stop his work immediately and assess the situation in earnest. 

He scoops Saiph safely into his arms, wand drawn. Crookshanks is staring steadfastly at a corner of the room, spine curled and tail waving with agitation. His ears are back against his skull as he lets out another growl, crouching low as he takes slow steps towards the corner. On his part, Voldemort is concerned by how empty it appears. Obviously there is something there, but what sort of magic lies over there? Anything this stealthily covered can only be a bad sign. 

Crookshanks continues to stalk closer to the empty corner, his eyes near black in concentration. 

After a tense moment of stillness, he pounces.

At first, Voldemort doesn’t understand. He lands in the center of the corner, and then begins to claw at the ground furiously. He doesn’t appear to be doing much other than making a mess out of the carpet. 

But then he realizes there  _ is  _ something in the empty corner: the shadow cast by the bookshelf. 

Frowning, he gathers Saiph closer to himself and points his wand at the shadow on the ground— then he casts a stinging hex.

The shadow begins to move ominously. Crookshanks lets out a yowl of frustration and claws faster. The darkness wiggles some more, and then a black mass rises from the ground as Crookshanks hisses furiously at it. 

He can’t make out what it is, at least in the beginning. But then it begins to emerge out of the inky darkness; pointed ears, a smooth head, and a rotund body. In his arms, Saiph kicks out in excitement, cooing. 

Voldemort nearly blasts the thing in rage. 

It’s the damned bunny. 

It has finally revealed it’s true colors. The normally expressionless face and button nose have transformed into a creature with malevolent, slanted crimson eyes and a wide, terrible grin.

The… the  _ thing  _ stares at him. Voldemort meets its gaze. 

And then it leaps. 

//

“The bunny is possessed.” Voldemort says, urgently. 

There is a beat of silence, long enough for Voldemort to worry he didn’t use this strange device correctly. But then Harry’s voice comes through, tinny but clear, “I’m sorry—  _ what _ ?”

“The bunny.” He repeats. 

“What bunny?”

“The— the toy!” He exclaims, wondering how Harry can be this dense. “The blasted toy! That bunny Saiph is obsessed with to an excruciating degree!”

Another pause. “How is that a  _ bunny _ ?”

Voldemort rears back, blinking furiously. “The— how is it not a bunny? The boy  _ calls it  _ a bunny.”

“The boy is three years-old,” Harry shoots back, and Voldemort can almost  _ see  _ his eye roll. "He hardly even knows what a bunny is." 

“What else is it supposed to be then?” Then he shakes his head. This conversation is ridiculous. “The shape is unimportant. The toy has been  _ possessed. _ By some sort of creature with malicious intent.” 

“...”

Harry is silent for so long this time that Voldemort worries he’s disconnected somehow. But when he stares at the odd light up screen, the connection appears to be stable. 

Finally, Harry lets out a gusty sigh. “Right. Okay. I’m coming home right now, so I’ll deal with it.”

To Voldmeort’s disbelief, he doesn’t sound as if he’s taking this issue with the seriousness it warrants. Their son’s stuffed animal is  _ possessed.  _ For who knows how long. By a creature they have no knowledge of that has sinister intent. A creature that Voldemort can’t even get a hold of! It keeps disappearing into the shadows, and dark curses don’t seem to work properly on it. He managed to land a solid hit with the  _ tickling charm  _ of all things, and yet somehow the unforgiveables don’t seem to do any damage to it!

Harry hangs up without much fanfare, leaving Voldemort to defend himself against the creature alone. 

A daunting task, to say the least. 

Firstly, the monster appears to use shadows as a vehicle of transportation that supersedes all wards and hexes and is completely immune to dark magic even of the worst and most despicable kind. 

Voldemort is at wits end, to say the least. He’s also extremely relieved to be the only person currently in the house, because he must look like a right loon; holding a babbling toddler in one hand and his wand aloft in the other, following a hissing orange furball and occasionally shooting off hideous dark magic at what appears to be nothing. 

Finally he manages to corner it again in the sitting room, he and Crookshanks working together to surround it into the shadow of an end table. 

“Bun-bun!” Sai cries happily, reaching for the shadow. Voldemort has to keep an iron grip around his waist lest he wriggle out into his impending doom. 

The door behind him slams open, startling both him and the cat. 

“Gengar, that’s  _ enough! _ ” Harry shouts, and stalks forward. 

He lunges straight for the end table, and digs his elbow halfway into the shadow. When his arm emerges he’s holding the strange creature by the scruff of its neck. After seeing it in full, he can admit the moving toy really doesn’t look much like a bunny; gremlin is more apt. Or evil, conniving, deranged goblin.

“I’m sorry about that,” Harry sighs heavily. “He’s a troublemaker by nature. But he’s usually not this obnoxious.”

“By nature?” Voldemort repeats, incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me that this… this  _ thing  _ has been the toy this whole time?”

“Yes. And it’s not a toy, it’s a familiar. How many times have I told you that?”

“I thought you were overexaggerating!” Voldemort replies, voice high. 

Harry looks confused. “That’s an odd thing to exaggerate about, don’t you think?”

Voldemort finds a reply difficult to formulate amidst his unhindered irritation. 

“It’s— it’s a  _ thing  _ with you.” He finally manages to get out.

Harry’s brow furrows. The creature wriggles in his grip. Harry pinches it glibly. “What is?”

Voldemort waves a vague and somewhat hysteric hand towards the dark furry thing, now hanging limply with a sad and somewhat guilty expression. The imp. “ _ That _ . That thing. Those… those objects of comfort you’re so fond of.”

Harry rears back, blinking. “Huh?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Voldemort grits his teeth, frustrated. “All those useless things you’re so intent on buying for them. The blankets. The stuffed toys. The dolls.” 

Harry is still staring at him, uncomprehending. “Of course I buy them toys. They’re kids.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. You have this— this inexplicable attachment to objects of absolutely no value whatsoever.” Voldemort explains, impatiently. “Objects of an arbitrary and useless nature, that hold disproportionate meaning for you.”

Understanding lights in Harry’s eyes. He looks away, embarrassed. “Oh.” He says. 

“Yes.” Agrees Voldemort.

Harry scratches his cheek. “I… hadn’t realized you noticed.”

Of course he noticed. He regularly trips on the majority of those miscellaneous objects once a fortnight, if not once a day. 

But this is not what Harry means, exactly. 

Voldemort sighs. He puts Saiph back on his feet, for the toddler to happily waddle his way towards his— his  _ familiar.  _ He presses his cheek against its soft, dark fur with a bubbly giggle. The fiend looks reluctant at first, but then seems resigned to its fate as Saiph squishes their faces together. Harry drops his death grip on the creature, and Saiph wraps his arms around it and proceeds to near squeeze the life out of it. 

They both watch the sickeningly heart-warming display for a moment.

Then Voldemort scowls. “I understand that— while illogical and absurd— you do indeed hold a profound fondness for these such items. I am not suggesting you stop buying them, or holding fondness for them—”  _ or hoarding them _ , he thinks, defeated, “I am merely pointing out that this is known behavior for you, and I had assumed you were calling their stuffed toys familiars out of some misplaced emphasis of their importance.”

Harry looks rather discomfited, but nods nonetheless. “I should have explained it more thoroughly.” He admits, which is the closest to an apology for this unpleasant surprise as Voldemort is going to get. 

Voldemort is hardly a paragon of great communication himself, so he can hardly justify taking out his irritation on him. Instead, he makes a valiant effort to put aside his anger over the situation in favor of a more logical response. “In the end, no damage was caused. But please endeavor to inform me earlier if you intend to purchase more.”

Harry smiles sheepishly. “Oh, well, about that…”

The Dark Lord narrows his eyes. 

“I  _ did  _ just find one for Cassiopeia.” He admits, with a grimace. “But just tentatively!”

Voldemort looks less than impressed. “Is it anywhere near as bad as this one?” He gestures to the little fiend, squeezed in Saiph’s arms. 

“Definitely not.” Harry insists. “Look at Ceph and Aster! Have you ever had a problem with their familiars?”

“Well, no.” In all fairness, he hadn’t even recognized what they  _ were.  _ Their impression of stuffed animals was so spot on he hadn’t even realized they were alive, much less magical. But as he was quickly learning after their fourth (and, if he had any say,  _ last _ ) addition to the family, the twins were turning out to be the  _ exception,  _ not the rule. 

“It’ll be much better than this mischief-making one, I promise.” Harry gives an unimpressed glare towards Saiph’s familiar. 

He supposes things like emotional attachment and familiars are more Harry’s domain than his own, so he concedes his point. “Very well. But any more trouble from this one,” he gestures towards Saiph’s familiar, “and I want him out.”

“Yes definitely.” He agrees readily. 

_ Too  _ readily, Voldemort will only realize in hindsight. 

//

For years, Copernicus the  stuffed bunny familiar is Voldemort’s arch nemesis.

Occasionally he and Crookshanks team up to thwart the evil fiend’s master plans, but more often than not he gets away with it. As Harry had revealed, the creature’s general personality was one that thrived off of causing mischief. Apparently it was a trait inherited by his entire species, which begged the question as to why in Merlin’s name Harry would have chosen the thing as a familiar. Harry insisted its powers were unrivaled, and some crazy oracle on some planet Voldemort’s never heard of used ‘divine powers’ to see what creature would be the best familiar for Saiph. Voldemort had never put much stock in divinity of any kind, but unfortunately his sentiment was not shared by his spouse. 

Copernicus and Voldemort have many battles of wits and wills over the years, until Saiph is finally, blessedly, off to his first year of Hogwarts, blasted creature in tow.

Voldemort finally thought he would get a much needed reprieve from obnoxious familiars. 

And then he met Slowpoke.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by the idea of all of the kids being pokemon trainers lol. Yes, I did make them teams. Also inspired by the time my dad thought my gengar plush was a bunny, which like, in what way??? #dadjokes 
> 
> Aster's familiar is Espeon, and Ceph's is Umbreon. I thought it fitting lol


End file.
